


The last present

by MadameMeduse



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: Found Family, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Has Feelings, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Loves Jaskier | Dandelion, Humorous Ending, Jaskier | Dandelion Loves Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, M/M, Oops, Post Season 1, Romantic Fluff, Semi naked Jaskier, Sexy package, Yule, Yule Presents, post mountain, soft bois
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-28
Updated: 2020-12-28
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:48:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,170
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28392657
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MadameMeduse/pseuds/MadameMeduse
Summary: Geralt of Rivia finds out that he misses his bard. But he has to care for Ciri and then Yule is approaching and Lambert is a prick and....well, then Geralt receives a very special present.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 16
Kudos: 113





	The last present

Being a father after not being a father for over a hundred years turned out to be the most terrifying thing Geralt had ever encountered. But he knew that there was one thing that was even scarier that finding himself responsible for a child: having him as a father.

The minute he had closed his arms around Ciri's shivering body in the woods near Sodden, something had exploded in his chest and he was sure that he would do everything to keep the girl safe for the rest of her life.

It was odd, but after their first meeting his aching heart didn't heal. An open wound remained where the stony organ had been for all his life as a Witcher and it irritated him deeply.

Looking at Ciri at night while she was tossing and turning in her bed, her blonde lashed soaked with tears of grief was torture. Embracing Yennefer again after finding out she had survived the Battle of the Fourteen had hurt like standing in the all engulfing flames the sorceress had used to turn the tide for the Northern Kingdom in the war against Nilfgaard.

They had brought Yennefer back to the small house where Zola and Yurga lived. The kind people who had unknowingly rescued the Lion Cub of Cintra and the Witcher who had been dancing with death after the ghoul bite were willing to also take the black haired woman in and nurse her back to health.

It took a while, but one day the sorceress rose from her bed and declared they needed to leave for Kaer Morhen as soon as possible. Geralt had no objections because he knew that the Witchers' keep was the safest place on the Continent for now, as winter was coming and no army would dare to try to reach the home of the Wolves during that grim season.

So they bid their goodbyes and left the rest of their coin and some little things that Yennefer enchanted with some practical spells as gifts for their lifesavers. Ciri cried her heart out while clinging to Zola and Geralt pressed his lips and wondered if he could ever provide what the girl was missing so much. A real family, love and closeness.

Yennefer declared she would portal them to the Witchers' keep and Geralt groaned, but gave in after seeing how exhausted his Child of Surprise was. She would never make the journey up the killer, the mountain pass that led to Geralt' childhood home in the Blue Mountains.

So the Witcher sighed and took Ciris little hand into his, leading her through the golden and black whirl of magic Yennefer had created, only to find himself kneeling on the courtyard of Kaer Morhen seconds later, gasping for air. 

“You don't like portals?”, Ciri piped and patted his back amicably, a huge frown on her lovely face.

“He never did”, Yennefer smiled thinly after arriving, Roach's reins in her gloved hand. “It's always fun to watch.”

The portal collapsed with a soft thud. Somebody cleared his throat and the travellers plus a nervous horse looked up to see three pairs of golden eyes staring back at them.

“So”, the oldest of the Witchers rumbled. His expression remained unreadable at first, but it changed and became very gentle as he turned to meet Ciri's panicked gaze. “Welcome, Princess Cirilla. I am Vesemir and these are Lambert and Eskel, Geralt's brothers. Just in case he didn't mention them.”

“He didn't”, Ciri's lower lip quivered. The blonde girl was clearly overwhelmed by the presence of the three hulking figures standing on the stairs that led into the keep. Yennefer hugged her with one arm, sending a deadly stare into Geralt's direction, lifting her eyebrows to tell him he should do _something_.

“Erm”, Geralt rasped and fought the need to run away as fast as he could. He tried to go on with the proper introduction, but it was his brother Lambert who broke the uncomfortable silence.

“Well, this will be very entertaining”, Lambert spat acidly and slapped his brother Eskel's back. The scarred Witcher nearly tumbled off the stairs. “Father Geralt, mother Witch and their little duckling.”

That's when Ciri started crying in earnest and Geralt was very thankful that Vesemir dragged Lambert away and Eskel, who was the most sociable of the Kaer Morhen wolves, took over the initiative and went down to introduce himself properly to the princess.

As soon as the terribly scarred Witcher with the kind eyes took Ciri's hand, a small smile returned to the girl's face and her eyes shone with curiosity.

“You feel like you have a nest of bees under your skin”, she whispered and Geralt found he could breathe again. He could sense it in his brother, the instant deep love and understanding the White Wolf had hoped for Ciri to find at Kaer Morhen and he was thankful beyond compare.

The next days were challenging for all of them. The bachelor routine the men had cultivated during the last decades was broken by the two women and the whirlwind of changes left Geralt dizzy. Vesemir and Eskel found it easier to adapt to sewing proper clothing for Ciri, repairing and moving furniture to the large room in the third floor of the tower that would be the women's dormitory and the presence of Yennefer who criticised everything, but proved to be a calm and attentive teacher and friend to the sad orphan.

Lambert had decided he had pressing matter's to pursue in his bomb laboratory every day and only showed up for dinner. He rarely spoke and left as soon as he could. It took Geralt a while to understand why his younger brother behaved this way. Lambert had always been an arse, but Geralt couldn't understand why Lambert refused to talk to Ciri and mistreated her so badly.

It was Vesemir who reminded him that Lambert had always struggled with being a Witcher and that he still felt that someone had stolen his life from him. A life that may had been a peaceful one, with a family of his own. So Geralt explained it to Ciri and she showed an instant, yet reluctant understanding. It was a very rare trait for a girl of her age, but not so rare for a human who had lost everything she had known.

Life went back to be something that Geralt would describe as normal. Vesemir, Eskel, Yennefer and the White Wolf himself began to teach Ciri, as it was immensely important that the girl learnt to control her powers and defend herself. There were lessons on monsters and old languages, sword fighting and basic knowledge of the Chaos that whirled inside the princess like an untamed maelstrom.

Geralt finally allowed himself to relax and found himself thinking again. His heart was still sore from the impact Ciri had made in his life and he struggled with the never ending attacks of feelings that he had suppressed for nearly all of his life.

One of his deepest regrets came to see the light of day again and he hated Yennefer for bringing it up while sharing a bottle of Est Est in front of the large hearth at the banquet hall.

“So”, she said and her violet eyes shone mischievously in the light of the fire. “And what about that little pet bard you were dragging around the Continent?”

And that was it. Geralt threw his glass into the fire and rushed out of the hall to decapitate some innocent training dummies in the pouring rain. Each powerful blow he landed reminded him of the moment he had been lashing out on Jaskier that fateful day at King Nidamir's mountains.

His shock about Yennefer's refusal to be with him because he had dared to link their fates and their bodies with a magic wish had hit him so hard that his logical thinking had melted away like snow in the sun. Some part of him – the part that was still a five years old boy who had been thrown away by his mother – had told him that it was the perfect time to get rid of his best friend as well. 

Jaskier was human and Geralt had always known that he would lose his friend some day. Why not in the same moment he lost Yennefer? The Witcher had been hurting anyway, so why should he bother himself with waiting for the inevitable loss he would be facing in the near future?

After that desastrous day, it had been easy to shove away the self hate and the bone deep shame about his misbehaviour because he needed to concentrate on finding Ciri and keeping her safe. But now, with his heart laid bare by the love the princess had brought back into his life, it was nearly impossible for him to stand the searing fire even the smallest thought of Jaskier lit in his chest.

The bard had left the mountain without any form of goodbye. He had taken all his belongings from Roach's saddle bags and had disappeared without being seen again. There had been no more colourful doublets, no notebooks, no lute strings, no fragrant oils and soaps. Just empty satchels and from that moment on, empty nights, without shared campfires, endless bickering and complaining, perfect and not so perfect tunes emerging into the moonlit sky.

Geralt had driven away his best friend with his false accusations. The only person who had been living at his side during the last twenty summers and who had always been there when terrible things had happened. Who had stitched him up, who had provided their food when Geralt had been too hurt to work, who had finally changed the way most humans thought about Witchers.

Geralt knew he had fucked up so badly.

Yennefer found him half an hour later and he told her what he had done to Jaskier. The sorceress just shook her head and led him inside. She forced him to change into dry clothing and go to bed. The next morning, after breakfast and Ciri disappearing with Vesemir and Eskel to work on her battle stances, she scolded him badly for his behaviour.

“Geralt, you and I were bonded over magic. But you and Jaskier, you bonded over his love for you!”, she yelled. It was the same moment when Lambert decided to appear in the banquet hall and just gawked at the pair and the words he had been hearing.

“Shit”, Geralt murmured and waited for Lambert's usual sneer to hit him. But the young Witcher only threw his hands up into the air, murmured something under his breath and left immediately. 

Jaskier loved him, Geralt thought numbly and blinked at the sudden realisation that Yennefer was right. She was always right.

“So I suggest you find him and apologise on your knees, Geralt”, the sorceress hissed, totally ignoring Lambert's dramatic exit. “Because you and me, that's over now and I will do everything to break the djinn's curse. But you can still get him back to share your life.”

“I don't -.” _Love him_ , Geralt wanted to say, but he choked on his words and Yennefer slapped his shoulder, although her touch was surprisingly soft. “I can't”, the Witcher added lamely. “Ciri needs me now. I have to protect her and I can't risk abandoning her to search for the bard.”

“You are a fool”, Yennefer sighed and left, rolling her eyes and throwing her hands up, an exact copy of Lambert's gesture some minutes ago.

Yes, Geralt was a fool. But he was stubborn, so he refused to address the topic again. The autumn months passed and the first snow fell, covering Kaer Morhen with a soft, but merciless blanket of white frost. The days were filled with training and learning, but every night when Geralt returned to his room, he knew that no matter how many activities he pressed into his wake time, there was something missing.

Jaskier.

One morning, Vesemir announced that they would have a proper Yule celebration and Eskel, who was responsible for preparing breakfast that day, nearly dropped the tray he was carrying from the kitchen to the banquet hall.

“Yule?”, the dark haired Witcher hummed and his gaze wandered towards Ciri who had visibly lit up after hearing about the old Witcher's plans. “Ah, I see. I will be happy to help.”

Geralt couldn't suppress a smile and nodded approvingly. The princess had been used to spend Yule with her family. But as she had lost both her parents and her grandparents, it was indeed an excellent idea to start a new tradition for her. There had never been a Yule feast at Kaer Morhen before because the instructors had known that it would remind the lonely children of their lost homes.

But times were changing and Geralt loved the idea of finding something that would make Ciri smile again. So he joined his brother Eskel in preparing everything for the feast. They chose a large Yule log and dragged it into the hall to dry completely. Bunches of ivy and holly ilex were piled up in a corner of the hall and later distributed everywhere to create a festive atmosphere.

The grown-ups – except for Lambert - decided they would prepare gifts for Ciri. The girl found out about it soon, because she was small, silent and excellent at eavesdropping. After a hour of nervous pacing the girl disappeared into her room with Yennefer by her side for a long talk. Geralt fought his curiosity and didn't try to find out what the women were planning. He just focused on his parts of the preparations and tried to keep his thoughts away from Jaskier.

They had never spent a Yule feast together, as Geralt had always been travelling to Kaer Morhen over the winter and Jaskier had preferred Oxenfurt or Toussaint to the biting cold of the North. But seeing the banquet hall ablaze with warm fire light and decorated to be cosy and inviting, Geralt wondered how it would feel to spend the winter with his best friend. His -.

The women disappeared again from time to time and Geralt knew they were portaling into the larger cities to buy presents, but he never complained about it and never asked questions. After all, he wanted to live through the unique excitement that came with the Yule feast to understand what it meant for Ciri. And it kept him distracted from the longing he felt.

The evening of Yule came and a blizzard hit the crumbling fortress with all its might. The banquet hall was warm and the food excellent, as Vesemir had spent all of the day in the kitchen. There were a roast beef with chestnuts, baked potatoes and baked apples filled with nuts and almond paste.

Ciri cried a lot when she spotted the wrapped gifts lying on a blanket next to the giant hearth and threw herself into Geralt's arms, sobbing and shivering. He kissed her hair and stroked her frail shoulders until she recovered and wiped the tears from her face. She insisted on gifting Yennefer and the Witchers first and soon, the grown-ups – except from Lambert, who had of course decided to stay away – unwrapped the things the girl had bought and made for them.

Vesemir hummed in content as he studied the cooking book Ciri gave him and Eskel couldn't suppress a crooked, but genuine grin as the princess handed him a new oakwood brush set for his bait goats.

Yennefer smiled at a new bottle of her favourite perfume – Ciri had taken Geralt into her confidence for this particular gift – and the White Wolf felt a strange feeling rising in his throat as his Child of Surprise presented him with unbreakable magic potion bottles and a new black linen shirt she had sewn all by herself. The hems were slightly crooked, but Geralt didn't care at all.

The princess beamed as she unwrapped her first present and found an elegant silver dagger Geralt and Yennefer had made and enchanted for her. It fitted perfectly into her fingers and her eyes shone with fierce determination.

Eskel's gift, a self-made beehive, made Ciri clap her hands in delight, because she loved all sorts of insects. They instantly began making plans to bring wild bees to the keep in summer and colonise them in the crate. Vesemir was the last one to slide a wrapped package into Ciri's direction.

The old man looked strangely shy and observed the girl with kind, attentive eyes. He had made her a belt with a fitting buckle that showed two animals standing side by side, a lion and a wolf. It was a rough work, but Ciri burst into tears again and hugged the old Witcher so hard that Vesemir's calm composure faded away and he hugged her back.

They finally settled down by the fire and enjoyed the crackling of the Yule log. Vesemir started to tell embarrassing stories about the Witcher's childhood and the gleam of joy returned to Ciri's eyes as she found out Geralt and Eskel could indeed blush heavily. Yennefer was strangely calm and excused herself after a while, speaking of business she had to finish.

Geralt watched his strange new family and allowed himself to sink deeper into his comfortable armchair. It was a precious moment he planned to keep in his memory forever, although he was missing something he had never had.

The front door burst open and Lambert stumbled inside, Yennefer on his heels. The youngest Witcher presented a veritable shiner and a huge grin. He carried a rolled carpet over his shoulder and the carpet made muffled sounds and wiggled.

“What's this all about?”, Vesemir bellowed and eyed the scene suspiciously. Yennefer slammed the door shut and brushed some snowflakes from her shoulders.

“This if a gift for – erm - Ciri”, Lambert declared and strolled closer. His face still wore a mischievous smile, but everybody could tell that he really felt bad about his previous behaviour. “I know I am an asshole and I want to apologize. So here it is.”

He bent down and unrolled the carpet with a cautious movement. The man who appeared out of the thick woollen fabric blinked sheepishly into the bright light and rubbed his cornflower blue eyes with his hand. His other arm secured a lute he held tight, pressed against his naked chest.

“Excuse me? What the actual fuck -”, the man croaked and shook his head, obviously dizzy and disorientated. Then he recognized the company he was in and froze. “Um, hello. I am -.”

“Jaskier!” Geralt sprung to his feet and stared like an imbecile. The bard – his bard – was half naked and only wore a piece of red silk that somebody had draped around his small hips, forming a lovely bow right where his most important parts were hidden under the fabric. “What are you doing here?”

“Excuse me?” The bard stood in an instant, his free hand on his hip. He stared at Lambert and Yennefer, murder in his eyes and completely unaware of the fact that Ciri's face had changed into a bright tomato red colour. “These two destroyed my exclusive Yule party. I refused to come with them, so they kidnapped me! Where am I, by the way? Is this Kaer Morhen? Impressive, really, but I need to leave now. There are some lovely -.”

He coughed as he finally spotted Ciri and his mouth fell shut. But only for a second. Then he bowed politely in a courtly manner.

“And you must be princess Cirilla. It is a pleasure to finally meet you. It took Geralt quite a while to find you, although I told him more than once he should get his head out of his – nevermind. Would you be so kind and turn, so I can dress again in – erm – the carpet? Because this brute totally forgot to pack my clothes.”

Said brute - Lambert - snickered sleazily.

“You don't need trousers to make music for Ciri”, the young Witcher grinned and cocked an eyebrow. “So, yeah, I am off now to check if the blizzard damaged my lab. See you tomorrow.”

Lambert turned to leave, but Ciri was faster than the Witcher. She blocked his way and shoved a little package into his hands.

“Here”, the princess said smugly. “I heard you liked bombs, so I bought you some optima mater.”

It was a practical gift, but it was a gift after all and the youngest Witcher just stared down at the princess for a little while. Then he patted her shoulder. It was the first time he had ever touched her and as Lambert finally left, there was only stunned silence in the banquet hall.

Geralt wasn't sure what had just happened, but he knew one thing for sure. Jaskier was there. The bard still stood on the carpet, lute cradled in the crook of his arm and looked so confused that Geralt felt the urge to hug the man and never let him got. Instead, the White Wolf handed him a warm fur blanket.

“Here”, he hummed. “Don't want you to catch a cold.”

The bard turned to meet his gaze. It seemed like he wanted to ask something, but he just produced the tiniest of smiles and a typical nonchalant answer:

“That would be awful, indeed. I am much sought after by many, many admirers. - Did I mention my many admirers?”

“Jaskier”, Geralt growled and wanted to step forward, but Ciri returned to the hearth, her face distorted by a deep frown.

“Can you play me some Cintrian Yule ballads?”, she asked the bard with moist eyes and Jaskier sighed deeply.

“Of course I can, Cirilla. I am your present, after all.”

And so they all sat down again and Jaskier did what he loved. He played until the flames of the Yule log died down and Ciri had fallen asleep on Yennefer's lap. The sorceress showed one of her rare smiles and scooped up the girl into her arms to carry her to bed. Eskel and Vesemir excused themselves shortly after, pretending they were tired, too. Geralt thought they were traitors, but he loved them dearly.

“I am sorry. And I am an idiot”, the Witcher said and looked at the bard. Jaskier was sitting on a blanket in front of the fire, the fur wrapped around his lean body. His long fingers still plucked the strings of his lute, only producing melancholic chords.

“Oh, I know, Geralt. But it's nevertheless good to see you again.” The bard's eyes never left the fretboard of his instrument.

“Good to see you too, Jaskier.” The Witcher cleared his throat and wished for a cave to crawl into. “So, you're doing well?”

“Excellent, thank you. Went back to Oxenfurt and they accepted me as professor for contemporary music.”

Another sad tune, D- minor. Geralt could tell from the way the bard moved his fingers.

“I am glad”, he rumbled and his fingernails clawed into the armrests of his chair. Jaskier hummed something and then asked silently, still avoiding eye contact:

“So, how is it going with Yennefer?”

“We decided to be friends.” Geralt's voice was only a whisper now. “Seems like – it's the best idea for all of us.”

The lute produced a sharp twang and the bard's head bobbed up. The music died. Jaskier's eyes widened with disbelief and Geralt thought his friend was the most beautiful man he had ever seen in his whole life.

“Excuse me? After everything you two went through you decided to be friends? Come on, Geralt. That's not very likely. But good luck, anyway. You think she could portal me back to Oxenfurt tomorrow morning? I need to apologize to a bunch of people.”

“No”, Geralt said gruffly. “She won't do that.”

“Oh come on, she doesn't hate me that much – or does she?” Now Jaskier sounded very confused. “I can't walk down the mountain wearing a bow over my -.”

“I won't ask her, bard.” The Witcher growled and finally found the courage to slide off the armchair and join his friend of the floor. He didn't feel the warmth of the fire or the softness of the blanket they were sitting on. Nothing mattered any more. “I want you to stay with me.”

“I have many obligations”, the bard murmured, but there was a soft shimmer in his eyes and Geralt found himself lost in the hope that it wasn't too late for them to be close again.

“You have me. If you want me, Jaskier.”

The bard's lips formed a perfect O as he stared at the Witcher. For a moment, he didn't say or do anything. But then he carefully put his lute aside and the cockiest grin Geralt had ever seen appeared on the bard's delicate features.

“In that case”, Jaskier mumbled with an alluring glance. “I think there's one last present you need to unwrap right now.”


End file.
